Patience, Prudence, and Pride
by Spellshadow98
Summary: Wanting revenge on his humiliation, the Master strikes at Silwen, using her to get to Draco in order to become Minister of Magic. This story is on hiatus. I am so sorry!
1. Patience is a Virtue

—Prologue—

It had been nineteen years. Nineteen years of waiting for her to be lulled into security, despite the Doctor's warning. "_I didn't find a body. Keep a constant vigilance! ... And bow-ties for your husband. Bow-ties are cool. Geronimo, The Doctor._" The woman had left the note lying on her potions desk at home on Spinner's End, waiting for anyone to read it. And for anyone to smirk at it. Which is what he had done. Foolish girl. Foolish _human_. After all, his pet name for her was "Silly" for a reason.

Naturally, as all humans did after time, she allowed herself to...forget about him. Forget about him being a threat. He'd make sure she'd live to regret that decision. However, dare he say, clever of him to let her forget about it. Let her grow used to the feeling of safety before ripping it brutally away from her. Nineteen years of lying in wait were going to pay off now, he could _feel_ it in his head. For her, he'd even undergone a regeneration so he wouldn't be recognized while he stalked her under a stolen Invisibility Cloak, just in case the cloak fell off. Now, today, he'd let the Cloak fall and take what he wanted in front of her dear husband.

His icy blond hair had grown into thick waves of pirate-flag black hair with scorching auburn eyes underneath his bangs. To throw her off even more, the Master had also grown taller, and more natural muscle had been added to his frame. Not too much to make him look abnormal, but just enough to give him a perfect body without trying. Oddly, that was exactly what the Master thought of when the regeneration started. He shook his head, wondering and took a seat in front of Silwen's potions shop, waiting for her and her and Draco to return, having come back sooner than they.

Today, the happy family had dropped their son Scorpius off at the train station for his first year at Hogwarts. The Master had watched as Silwen kissed Scorpius good-bye, watch her take her idiotic husband's hand and caress her pregnant stomach with a tender look in her eyes. Absolutely nauseating. He'd whip that out of her, starting from day one.


	2. Leverage

Hi everyone, welcome back!

So, here is my works cited for this chapter:

www. harrypotter . wikia wiki / List _ of _ potions

To any new readers, most things in italics are either thoughts or italicized for emphasis.

* * *

Crack. There they were, hand in hand. Swiftly, he stood up and purposely bumped into them as they headed into the shop.

"Oh, excuse me, I didn't see you for a moment," apologized Draco courteously, wrapping his hand around Silwen's waist.

Smirking, the Master responded, "Oh, I'm perfectly all right. And—wait, you're Silwen Snape, the girl who destroyed the Elder Wand all those years ago." His eyes grew in mock-awe as he looked at her, noting Draco's arm tightening around his wife's waist. In a few hours, that wouldn't be a problem. ... As if it was one now. Ha. The idea of a human causing him trouble was laughable. Draco Malfoy was little more than an irritating wasp. Soon to be exterminated.

Silwen blushed and nodded. "Erm, I mostly sell potions now. I prefer a quiet life."

Smirking slightly at her blush, the Master went on and introduced himself, offering his hand as he said cordially, "I'm Mr. Koschei, and I'm quite interested in your potions, actually. Care to show me around your shop?" Inwardly, he was pleased when his name triggered something in her. But the now the question was, would she remember where she had heard it? It had been nineteen years, after all.

Silwen took it, and his smile deepened. He offered his hand to Draco and said, "So you must be Draco Malfoy, head of the school governors."

Draco smiled mechanically and also shook his hand. "For a complete stranger, you seem to know a bit about us."

Laughing lightly, the Master replied, "Just what every well-informed businessman needs to know about the wealthy and prospective customers. Now, Mr. Malfoy, would you mind if I borrowed your wife for a moment? I am most interested in her newest batch of potions."

"That should be fine, Mr. Koschei. If you'll follow me," replied Silwen, stepping away from Draco, kissing him on the cheek and opening the shop. "You go off to the Ministry, dear and I'll see you for lunch?"

Inclining his head, Draco bid his wife and Mr. Koschei good bye and Disapparated.

"What exactly can I help you with, Sir?" asked Mrs. Malfoy, letting her potential customer walk inside her shop. "This morning, I finished a simple Sleeping Draft, an Aging Potion, and an Anti-aging Potion. On the shelves of Most Recent, you can find a Babbling Beverage, Doxycide, Everlasting Potion, and Gregory's Unctuous Unction," she said waving her hand around the shop. "And of course, all expertly bottled with the highest safety requirements. Around the shop we have various instruments for expert brewers that need more precise measurements, a handful of ingredients, a few cauldrons—we should be getting more soon—and on my front desk here, I have a couple of fun samples for children who come in with their parents..." Silwen was babbling. It wasn't often that she babbled, but the man in her shop set her off edge, for some reason.

"I was wondering if you had any...Veritaserum," replied the Master, liking the fact that he made her babble.

"Allow me to check behind in my storeroom," said Silwen, going behind the shop. Veritaserum._ That hasn't been asked for in a while. Several months..._She cast a glance behind her back at the Mr. Koschei who smiled at her and gestured for her to go on back._ Koschei, why does that name ring a very tiny bell? _She shook her head and let the thought go, reaching the room and searching the shelves. Thankfully, one bottle of Veritaserum lay on a shelf, just above its label. She reached for it, suddenly catching sight of her palm.

It looked like it had been branded, in the shape of a red, raw, "M." Quickly, she went over to Essence of Dittany and put a few drops on the burn, which oddly didn't hurt, relieved, she watched as the rawness healed over. However, the M was still there._ I'm guessing that's going to be permanent. At least it's taken care of now...I'd better wrap it_. She cast a Summoning Spell, caught the cloth bandage when it came soaring, and carefully wound it around her burn. A small inkling of what it could be crept inside her mind, but she shoved it away. It couldn't be that. It just _couldn't_. The salve wasn't even available except inside the ministry.

_This is the hand that shook hands with Mr. Koschei...as did Draco._ Draco. She needed to talk to him. Now. Looking at the fireplace in the room next to the storeroom, she checked to make sure there was some Floopowder in the flowerpot hanging beside it._ Thank goodness there is,_ she thought.

She got out a quill and parchment, scribbled a note to Draco asking him about his hand, and if possible to immiediately contact her via Floo, then attached it to her owl named Adrianna, and sent the note off.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she started to use Occlumency, just in case she needed to lie, and returned to the front of the shop.

"I'm sorry about the wait, I forgot about a potion I was brewing in the back...It did a number on my hand," she said to her customer with a smile, "here is your Veritaserum bottle."

Pleasantly, the Master flicked his eyes down to her bandaged hand then back to her face. "I'm sorry about your hand, Ms. Malfoy. Now, how much for the bottle?"

"That will be twenty galleons, Sir. Is there anything else you'd like me to get you?" she asked, looking at the window. She knew it couldn't be that fast. Ten minutes minimum until he'd get it.

The man paid and then looked out the window as well. "About your cauldrons. What size and what type do you sell?" Mr. Koschei asked, smirking at the well-hidden worry in her eyes. She really had learned to keep her emotions and thoughts hidden. Not only that, but she had learned to lie as well. _This is going to be a challenge,_ he thought, satisfied. Soon, soon, soon! Silly had begun to talk and he left his excitement there, focusing on what she had to say.

"We have brass, copper, pewter, and on the rare occasion gold. For sizes we have a Training size, Small—about ten inches in diamater on the rim, Medium—twenty inches, and and large—thirty inches. Currently, we only have pewter in all sizes in stock, as well as smalls for copper cauldrons. You are welcome to look at them, they're underneath the "Garden Help" potions on the left," she said, pointing to the objects in question with her good hand.

Tentatively, she pressed gently on her bandaged hand. To her faint surprise, it felt like an old bruise that had been bumped. She lifted the wrap off, and stared; the burn had healed completely, but a scar in the shape of "M" still remained. _I'll have to find an anti-scarring balm at the apothecary after work_. In silence, Mr. Koschei went over to the cauldrons and began to inspect them.

"These are exceptional quality, where do you get them?"

"Oh, we just get the ones that Potage's Cauldrons doesn't want. I sell them for half-price here. They don't last too long, only about ten to twelve months," explained Silwen, glancing at her back office. No green light glowed from the fireplace.

Her customer nodded to show he heard and continued to look at the cauldrons, squatting down and feeling them. Sluggishly, the minutes passed until, a voice came from the back "Silwen? What's going on?"

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, Sir, I should be right back. I'm in my office if you require anything," she said walking swiftly to her office and crouched in front of the fireplace, breathing a deep sigh of relief to see Draco's head above the embers. "Look at my hand," she said, presenting it, to him. "You don't have a mark on your hand, do you?" she said anxiously.

"No, I don't. When did you get it?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I-I think when I shook hands with Mr. Koschei. The peculiar thing is that it never hurt, even when I wrapped it. It was like it was normal. At first, my palm looked bad, burned raw. After I put Essence of Dittany on it, the burn healed over and now, it's this," she explained in a rush, watching Draco's expression turn into worry.

"I'll contact St. Mungoes for you. ... Do you have any idea what it could be?"

Silwen's face grew white and she muttered, "I've heard people talking on Nocturn Alley about...a "Rego creme". It's supposed to give one person almost permanent control of someone when they put it on themselves and then make contact with their victim. As far as I know, they were only _testing_ it in the Department of Mysteries, but if you talk to the right people..." she paused then went on. "They say that the victim is branded with the giver's mark, which was why I suspected it when I saw the M on my palm."

"But I'm clean. I have no mark," said Draco assuredly, holding his palms for her to see.

"I-I think that it only works with one person," said Silwen hesitantly.

From behind Silwen, the office door creaked open, softer than an infant's whisper.

"You're right, Silly," smirked the Master, preening, walking over to her. "It is the Rego. I just...happened to be in the right place at the right time and just happened to take a sample with me after seeing its results work to a perfection, at least with following physical commands. I have no control over your thoughts, emotions, or memories. I can only tell you what to _do_."

Whipping her head around, Silwen stared at Mr. Koschei. _Koschei. Master._ That's what the Doctor had called the Master.

"_Tick-Tock._ So you did regenerate after Bellatrix killed you," Whispered Silwen, still on the floor.

"Don't call me that!" yelled the Master, furious, making Silwen jump. Then, with eery speed, the Master calmed himself and smiled, his eyes twinkling.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, you will let your wife leave with me and you won't notify anyone until I give you permission. If you do tell someone, then I will have little Silly punish herself by, for instance, drinking several of these little potions all at once, or by cutting herself on one of her instruments. I repeat, do not try anything or Silwen will cause herself great harm. Understood?"

Numbly, Draco nodded, watching his wife grow tenser and tighter as the moments drew on. Even from where he was standing, Draco could feel his wife's fear swell inside her and petrify her.

"I'm coming in. Sil, get back," said Draco.

"Oh no you are not, Mr. Malfoy," sneered the Master. "Stay there and I will let Silly write you a letter when we arrive at my house. If you put a toe in this shop, you will never see her again until Death comes for you."

"Draco, do as he says," whispered Silwen, an imploring look in her eyes drowning in tears. "Let the Master take me. I will write to you."

"Silly, tell Draco you love him, and tell Draco to leave us, please," said the Master, smoothly walking forward, stopping when he was directly behind Silwen. To make a point, he put his hand on Silwen's shoulder as Silwen told Draco what the Master had told her. "She is mine, _boy_," the Master called as Draco withdrew, holding his tears inside him.

"So now that we are alone, I think it's time to go. Silly, walk over to your potions, go on, there's a good girl," cooed the Master, pushing her to her feet and poking her since she seemed so reluctant. "Quickly, please, we don't have all day. Okay, now take your Sleeping Draught, its antidote and drink only the Sleeping Draught."

It felt like she was a marionette, and he, well, the master of her. Her feet moved when they told her to, her arms and hands reached for the bottle and as obediently as a wooden puppet, she drank the potion and instantly fell to the ground, dreaming.

He dragged a large suitcase over and opened it. Inside were little compartments, formed to fit around fifty skinny containers. Humming, he walked around the entire shop, choosing each potion with care before putting it in. "I'm so happy you have all of these perfectly ready to go and so well preserved, Silly. I don't even have to worry about the glass cracking or the seals unsealing, you did such a good job, you!"

Finished, the Master walked over to her and picked her up in one of his arms, gloating. In his other arm, he carried the suitcase. "Despite the fact that she's thirty-six, she looks lovely," he murmured, stroking a thumb over her lips and walking outside from the back door in the office. "You're one of those humans who always looks younger than they are. In fact, if I didn't know better, I would have said you were only twenty-four."

On a whim, the Master turned the sign in the front window to "Closed," and got rid of the enormous cauldron in the office. "We don't want any accidents to be blamed on you to rouse attention, now do we, Silly?" he asked to the sleeping woman in his arms. And with that, he leaped into his flying blue Mini Ford stolen from the Ministry of Magic, laid her down in the back seat, took her wand from her fingers, and drove off into the morning, humming along with the birds in the sky.


	3. PS I Love You

Hi everyone, welcome back!

So, BlueNeutrino asked what the Master looks like now. I have decided that by a crazy-random-happenstance, he looks like...Dougray Scott. Dougray was Prince Henry in "Ever After," the villain in "Mission Possible II," in a version of "The Arabian Nights," "Dark Water," and "Hitman" to name a few. In this story, Dougray looks slightly younger than 25, so around what he looks like in "Ever After," but with black hair. ... Since I love Dougray's voice, the Master actually sounds like Dougray as well. It's like they're doppelgangers (look-a-likes).

To any new readers, most things in italics are either thoughts or italicized for emphasis.

* * *

A little baby foot kicked inside Silwen's stomach, waking her up from her uneasy sleep.

"Good morning, Silly and child," sneered a voice, "I thought it would be...poetic if you weren't only chained up inside, but also in literal chains. So tell me, how is your child?"

Coldly, Silwen responded, sitting up despite the shackles on her wrists and ankles, "Both of us would be better if we knew where we were and why exactly we are here, Mr. Koschei."

The Master approached her, carrying a small wooden stool in his smooth, large hands. When he was inches away from the bed, and from her, he put the stool down and sat on it, smirking. "I informed your previous owner years ago that I always got what I wanted. And here you are, my dear Silwen, my own personal slave. But now, that's not enough. Now, I want just a bit more...I want to be Minister of Magic. And I thought, who better to enlist in my help than Draco Malfoy, the most influential man in the Ministry to the Minister himself? Then I realized, I'd need someone as leverage to persuade him to help me." His hands reached across the bed and clutched her fingers, instantly quelling their attempt to flee under the sheet. Leaning closer to her face, he said, "I decided to kill patience and reap my desire, thus getting two birds with one stone." For a moment, his eyes stared at her and took in her appearance-scared and somewhat frail looking. That could soon be changed. "And the key to my plans?" he laughed, throwing back his head, "You, _darling_."

Blanching, Silwen shrank away from him, against the wall's corner, curling her feet in front of her stomach. "You have me, that's one bird. And the second, you're going to use me to get to Draco," she whispered, her eyes wide.

Impatiently, Koschei nodded then started another speech. "Now, I won't stand for you to look older than me. So I'm going to give you a bottle and you will drink it, please. Every. Last. Drop. And tomorrow, I will have another bottle ready for you, and so on while you stay here. You will drink this potion every single day." As he said this, he drew from a pocket a small glass bottle with a viscous green liquid inside.

Silwen stared incredulously at the Master as she involuntarily reached for the potion. "Do you have any idea what this is going to do to my child?" Her mouth twitched as the Master's swelling gloat deflated.

However, the gloat returned quickly. "Then I will wait until the baby is born. Do you know when that will be, Silly?"

"Five months."

Eyes narrowing, the Master rose from his chair and sat onto the bed. He lashed his hand out, palm open, and smartly slapped her across the cheek. "You are quite big for five months. Now, tell the the truth or I'll hit the baby. How far along is it? Don't lie to me _ever_ again."

"I'm due in one month." said Silwen coldly, staring at her stomach to avoid his gloat.

"Better, Silly. You're most likely wondering what I'll do with the child after it is born, yes?"

"Yes, Sir."

"If you behave, I will let the child go to its father and forget about it. And if you are perfect for me, I will let you personally hand the brat over the day she is born. If you...misbehave, I will raise the child in isolation. And if you try to escape, your baby will be stillborn."

She remained silent and looked at him, horror filling her entire face.

"And believe it or not, I am capable of mercy. I'm going to let you write to your husband and your brat of a boy. Only if you sign and send this along with your first letter," said the Master, holding a paper to her. "It's a Divorce file. Sign it correctly and quickly. Do not ruin or try to foil my plan with this. Oh, and put an Indestructible Charm on it so your dear husband isn't able to destroy it. I want his signature on it when he writes you again. If I don't see this file signed in one week, your contact with him and your son. I even promise not to read your letters. As long as you give me your word that you won't inform Draco or Scorpius of anything. You will not contact anyone else by any means."

Half-despairing, half hopeful, Silwen agreed to the terms and signed the Divorce file without messing it up. After that, she put an Indestructible Charm The Master leered at her, watching her try to figure out why he was having her file one when both of them knew that Draco and she loved each other. "You're going to marry me yourself, aren't you?" whispered Silwen, incredulous.

The Master inclined his head, smiled pleasantly, left parchment, quill and an owl named Hermes on the bed, then left the room with a few more commands to follow. "Don't leave your room until I return. You have two hours to write and send the letters off. Write only, or draw something if you wish. Nothing else. Ever." And with a gentle slam, he was gone.

Instantly, she began to write to Draco.

_"Dearest Draco._

_Along with this letter is a Divorce file. If you don't sign it, we have no contact. Don't worry, we will get re-married as soon as time will allow. I love you. I love only you. And I will never love anyone else. I'm so sorry I signed. Will you forgive if I write that I had no choice? I can't live without you and Scorpius, even if only through letters. I need you in any way I can have you and it was either letters and divorce or nothing at all. Again, I-I am sorry, darling._

_Scorpius is our sun, and tell him I love him when he comes for the holidays! ..._

_I'm withering here, I can feel it. But our child is healthy. Just one more month, dearest! The Master has said that if I behave, I can hand our baby over to you after s/he is born. ... Would you hate me if I promised that? I've been thinking of names. Trudy, Miriam, Cyngus, Cassiopeia, Orion, Hercules (only joking), Lucius is a must like Narcissa is a must, Zeus...What do you think, darling? Oh, and "Doctor" is also on my list. The Master wants me to put in "Koschei."_

_The Master also wants me to drink a "Youthenizing Draught." I've convinced him to wait at least until the baby is born. I shudder to think what it would do to our infant. After our child is born, I don't know how long I can put off drinking it._

_Please send Lucius' cross and the muggle toy I bought a week ago with Scorpius' letter. I'm directing both to you. Please, send Scorpius' from home. Don't forget to send him a small amount of sweets. And, treat yourself to some too. I'm getting the feeling, you need some cheering up. Thank you._

_I haven't told Scorpius. I'm leaving that up to you. Promise me that you won't estrange yourself from him, no matter what you say. With me gone, Scorpius will have only you and he will need you much more than you will think. Write him every day. Tell him you love him, send him pictures of our vacations (either before or after he was born). You must ensure that Scorpius knows we love him._

_I. Love. You. I almost always have. And assuredly always will._

_Again,_

_You and Scorpius and this baby have all of my love between you. Please, don't be too angry. And write tomorrow. Send a picture if you can!_

_I love you to eternity and beyond,_

_~Your Sil_

_P.S. Please write soon! I miss you. More than anything."_

She reached for another parchment and feverishly began that one.

_"Dearest Scorpius,_

_How is school? Who are your friends? Are you friends with Rose? What are you eating most of? Better than home? Be honest, it's okay if it's better! Enclosed is a muggle "squirt gun." Figure out on your own how to use it. Put those brains of yours into use and have fun with it. Also enclosed is a cross from Grandfather Lucius. Wear. That. Cross. Every. Day. Do you understand? It has protective powers and you must promise to wear it around your neck! Have you promised me yet? ... I'm waiting... Good. _

_I love you and I'm so proud of you getting into Ravenclaw! I know your father is as well, you smart, dashing, boy, you! _

_Sadly, I have some terribly awful news. It will be only you and your father for the next holidays. I'm so sorry, Scorpius! Something came up, ask your father about it, I don't have time to explain now, but I'll be cooped up for the next few months, perhaps longer, working on a new project. _

_I'll write you as often as you want, starting every day!_

_Hugs, kisses, sweets, and all my love,_

_~Mum._

_P.S. I love you, Scorpius. I always have and always will, no matter what you do._

__She wiped her tears away, careful not to let them drop on Scorpius' letter, and folded them inside an envelope under the owl. "Malfoy Manor, England," she told the owl, after scribbling the address on the letters and attaching them to the owl's foot. "Fly safe, Hermes. Fly quickly."


	4. Grooming

_Dearest Silwen,_

_I cannot even begin to say how worried I am about you. Scorpius is fine. Irate, he's not writing you till I explain what's going on. I don't think this resolution will last long. ... If you aren't home by Christmas holiday, I'll tell him the moment we arrive home from the station. He doesn't know about the divorce either. If you aren't home in a week, I will tell him about that, at least. Scorpius should know about it._

_As the Master wishes, the divorce file is signed and taken care of. I had an attorney complete the paperwork. I-it's my fault. All of this! I am so sorry, love. There is nothing to forgive! Never! I love you. And once this is over, we _will_ remarry. I swear it._

_Names? Yours sound quite...unique. Yes, middle names for a boy or girl will be either "Lucius" or "Narcissa". For first names, I have a strong attraction to "Astoria," or perhaps, "Alistair." Please, Sil. I want to raise my daughter with you. I beg of you, behave until our child is born then the moment she or he starts to breathe, work on an escape plan. I know you can think of one! _

_The Master has a meeting planned for next week. He mentioned bringing you along as a cruel joke. I would love to see you, darling. Do you think you could come? Work is normal. No news there. I contacted a Doctor in worry of your pregnancy. The small kicks that sometimes hurt your ribs have gotten me anxious. Are you all right? Should I send him with the Master after the meeting?_

_Oh, here's Scorpius letter, just having arrived. Even for him, I thought his vow of not writing would go on longer._

_I love you,  
Draco._

_P.S. Enclosed is a bit of chocolate. Cheer yourself up. I'm betting the Master isn't._

Softly, Silwen folded the letter and pressed it against her lips. His scent, and that of faint salt still lingered like an echo on the parchment. His slanted calligraphy, was scribbled over the paper, the ink still a touch wet. _Maybe I'm closer to Draco than I think I am,_ she thought in a smile. Inside was another piece of parchment, unbelievably short and quickly torn off from a roll.

_MUM!_

_NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! You can't do this! It's my first year, and you have all this money from a lot of years of work so you don't have to go and abandon me and Dad, plus DAD has a fortune too! Besides, you're pregnant, and according to that horrible prig James Sirius Potter, you should stay in bed all day or the baby will die! ... So you can't go! I love you, school is good, Professor Longbottom doesn't really seem to like me that much, but I don't like him either. Defense Against The Dark Arts is brilliant, I'm the best student in there. Dad says I take after you. Do I?_

_I'm still angry at you,  
Scorpius._

_P.S. The cross is brilliant too! It's kept me from...all sorts of...danger. Thank you!_

"Oh Scorpius. You always manage to make me smile," murmured Silwen after reading her son's scrambled letter. At least he was having a good time.

The letters had arrived early this morning, landing neatly on her bed covers with a tiny thump. A delicate nibble from Hermes had woken her up so he could be petted and scratched while she read. "Good Hermes," she had crooned, "such a good owl to come through the window and know how to push the window open." Of course, Silwen had taught Hermes this trick in case, at the Manor, a window wasn't open. After a few more croons, Silwen had then pointed Hermes to a perch the Master had placed in the room prior to her arrival, and told him to rest there until she wrote back.

It being still early in the morning, Silwen pulled her blankets up once more and fell asleep again. "I'll write tonight. I just need some rest right now," she told herself tiredly.

* * *

Tack! Crick! Creak! Crack! Soft noises growing louder tapped on Silwen's window. Her feet swung slowly over the side, and walked across the chilly wooden floor to the window. Luckily, the shackles allowed her to walk far enough to be able to see out of it.

"Good morning, Princess! How did you sleep?" called the Master from twenty feet below, dressed in a medieval prince's garb–a thick golden tunic with tight silver trousers underneath and high black leather boots on his feet.

"Not well, I'm afraid," she called back, her voice as cold as the floorboards.

"You may call me 'Henry' from now on," he said, chuckling at the frigidity of her tone. "And why didn't you sleep well?"

"The bed was...unsatisfactory."

Too tired from worry, her mind ignored the chuckle and ordered her feet back into her bed—her beautiful four-postered, red-curtained, centuries old, thick-mattressed, mahogany bed with pearly sheets and blushing pillows. It was more luxurious than hers at home. But it was lacking someone. And the red curtains, however beautiful, they only reminded her of blood. No doubt, that was why the Master had chosen such a color.

"I have not finished talking to you! Come back over and lean your pretty head out again, Ms. Prince."

He waited until her face reappeared. "What exactly bothered you? The curtains? The color? ... What are your favorite colors? I can be quite accommodating if you have my piece of paper, Silly."

"Green, blue, stone gray and dirt brown–the colors of a mountain stream. Here is your paper, Henry, all signed and perfect," replied Silwen, taking the divorce file out and letting float out the window. She watched it descend and rest on top of his waiting hand.

"Thank you, shall we address the shades of your bedroom colors?" he said, already starting to go inside and looking the parchment over.

Quickly, Silwen opened her closet and looked inside. Oddly enough, it was empty. She closed it and began running her fingers through her hair. Mid-yank, a soft yet compelling finger knocked on the door, instinctively drawing her attention to the Master entering her room. He dropped the package he was carrying onto the nightstand and, smirking, he walked over to her and took her hand out of her hair, holding it in his.

"Allow me," he said, gesturing for her to sit on the bed, "Go on, Silly, sit." From a pocket, he took a brush and when she had sat, her back to him, he started to tame her hair. To his irritation, Silwen's back was ramrod straight, and no matter harshly he pulled through her hair, she didn't wince, cry out or react at all. _So she's learned composure. About time,_ he thought, pulling through a particularly knotted bunch of obsidian waves. "You haven't been brushing your hair. I will just have to do it for you every morning."

"No. I am perfectly capable of brushing my hair. However, due to...extenuating circumstances I've been unable to tend to my toiletterie," she replied through clenched teeth. His hands were soft and smoother than ice, she noticed when he brushed her skin to gather up more of her hair. "Henry, you're pulling to hard," she said idly, trying his new name for the first time. She didn't like it. It was too...romantic, too normal for someone like him. Speaking of romantic, that reminded her of Draco. The Master was going to see him next week. "I would like to go with you to your meeting next week," she murmured softly, loosening her back's muscles.

"Perhaps, Silly. How-of course. Darling Draco must have written to you about it. But aren't you curious about what I brought with me?" he asked, letting her hair fall down to her shoulders, fingering the ends thoughtfully. "I will allow you to come," began the Master, "if you will give me permission to cut your hair."

With a whirl, Silwen rose from the bed and faced him, glaring. "And if I say take me anyway?"

"Then I'll cut it off by force and I'll order you to stay here. Either way, I'm going to cut your hair now," responded the Master, taking a delicate pair of pure silver scissors out of his pocket. "Sit down on this stool, in front of the mirror, and hold yourself still," he ordered, motioning to a stool and vanity mirror that had suddenly appeared. "Don't get up until I am finished."

"You promise that if I allow you this, you'll let me come? You'll let me talk to Draco for an hour, alone?" she said sitting down on the wooden stool.

"So you are saying yes?"

Her face rigid, she nodded curtly. "Yes."

"I will give you an hour of privacy, not a second more. Now Silly, how short do you want it?"

"Keep it long," said Silwen, taking in a deep, half-relieved, half-worried breath. She had never cut her hair more than an inch.

"Close your eyes, Silly. Don't open them until I give word," ordered the Master, taking a muggle spray bottle and enchanted scissors in hand, watching her eyes close. "Don't try to open them once, keep them completely closed, please," he murmured as he began to wet her hair.

Her eyes closed, Silwen felt her head grow lighter and lighter with each snip when the Master started cutting. Judging by the weight loss, he was not keeping it long. Her hair was the price of seeing Draco, and she was much willing to pay. Yet despite her resolve, a few tears wormed themselves out of her eyes and down her cheek.

An hour of complete silence passed between them, the Master smirking as he snipped her hair away. Seeing her tears, he took a moment to brush them off, startled to watch her remain still at his touch. The girl truly had gained control over her emotions. He'd fix that soon. But now, it was her hair that he wanted. Her hair was needed to complete his final. A project that, if done correctly, would give him insight into her emotions and perhaps even thoughts, thoughts that she kept ever-so-carefully gaurded. Even before he had made her prescence known, the thing that he found remarkable with her was how, how controlled she had become.

With a last snip, he smiled at himself, self-satisfied. He fetched a blow-dryer and a straightener, then proceeded to style it into an adorable bob cut. Another grin escaped his lips as he imagined her stoic face crumble when she saw her ear-length hair. The cut _was_ cute—ten years of beauty school had taught him that—and he wondered if Silwen would agree. Shaking his head, he marveled that he had spent _ten years_ in such a place, just to learn how to do her hair. _It was worth it_, he thought, as he looked at her reflection. A new hair cut turned her look over quite nicely. All that was needed now was her wardrobe and her make up. When her ex-husband saw her, the Master would be sure that Mr. Draco Malfoy would hardly be able to recognize his wife. _Perhaps I'll even give her colored contacts, _he mused.

"I am finished. Open your eyes," commanded the Master, after he had smoothed down a few strays.

Preparing for the worst, Silwen opened her eyes and silently inspected her hair. Acutely, she felt the lack of locks not shielding her from prying eyes. Without her hair, she suddenly felt vulnerable, and with the Master as her master, this was not something she wanted. In front of him, she must be strong—or at least poised. No more trembling. Smiling, she looked at the Master's reflection and said, "Thank you. Now, I really must find something else to wear so if you'll be so kind as to step outside—"

"You will wear what is in that package," spat the Master, pointing. Again, the woman had refused to react. One day, he'd get something out of her and finally snap her spirit. "I will return in five minutes to see how it looks," he promised as he strode outside and shut the door.


	5. The Terrible Tutors

HI! I am so so so so so so so sorry about the lull! I simply had so many ideas for this story, I got confused as to what to do first! So please excuse this lateness! Um, this chapter isn't proof-read. It's jumbled and I don't have teh eyes to see it so if you spot anything, PLEASE say something.

* * *

Inhaling peacefully, Silwen opened the long package lying over her nightstand and immediately let that breath out in shock. Inside the parcel were two dresses of unusual colors. One was a deep, icy shade of violet, the other a seductive red. Instinctively, she knew the colors would be perfect on her. The Master had chosen well.

Taking them in her hands, Silwen inspected them closely. The violet dress was silk, while the red dress made from soft velvet. Both had modest necklines, however, the sleeves and skirt were too long and would trail on her if she didn't shorten them. A simple style, medieval, and void of any decorum. To her naked eye, nothing seemed malvolent or amiss. However, she was still apprehensive about the dresses as she flicked her wand at the dress and violet fabric slipped over her body.

The soft fabric encompassed her, and was ever so slightly loose around her torso. "Why isn't it tighter?" she asked when the Master walked back inside.

"I'll explain later. If you don't figure it out. I've written down my rules for you to follow...if you wish. Except for lying to me. You will always tell me the truth. For the time being, I'll let you choose to obey me, or choose to defy me, the exception being choosing your clothing. You will wear only those two dresses and your night gown for sleep," he said handing her a parchment.

"Considerations," it was entitled. "1, It would be appreciated if you were civil at all times. 2, I'd like it if you didn't escape from here. 3, Perhaps you could act like a proper housewife, 4, You might want to have your child soon. 5, If you made potions and poisons for me when I ask you to, things would go much more smoothly. 6, It would be suitable if you gave in to any romantic attempts I make. 7, I advise you to make sure you are stunning every time you exit your room. 8, You might want to refrain from writing about what you do here to your family. 9, If you could show your emotions openly instead of hide them from me, that would be rather helpful. 10, It would be better if you obey my suggestions."

Eyes narrowed, Silwen looked up, having finished reading. "What stopped the direct orders?"

Leering, the Master stepped towards her and held her hands in his polished marble-smooth ones. "I'd rather see you bend to my will out of your own choice. If you...protest too much, I will revert to direct orders, never fear," he said. "Don't you want me to explain rule ten?"

Silwen nodded, instinctively distancing herself from the Master. Subtly, the fabric tightened and she felt her stomach become a little more prominent. She pretended not to notice and stored the thought in her mind to examine later, scrutinizing the Master's face, which twitched around the corners of his mouth. "I am to receive 'teachers?'"

"It is customary for a woman of your stature to be disciplined in feminine arts," replied the Master.

"For a debutante, Master. I am hardly that," said Silwen, bemused.

The Master carried on as if she hadn't spoken. "Let me introduce you to them," he said, opening the door even wider. He ushered Silwen through the door to the hallway and walked her into the parlor where three figures were waiting.

One had hair whiter than a new-born lamb that came down long on the bottom and it was naturally spiked up in a fluffy halo around his head. The other had the appearance of a stately English gentleman from the early 1900s. Lastly, Silwen simply stared in horror. Dressed in white lace, her ebony hair piled on her head stood Drusilla, not a day older than when Silwen had last seen her, nineteen years ago.

''Professor Henry Higgins, King Jareth Kobold, I'd like to introduce you to your new student, Ms. Silwen Snape. Miss Drusilla, you have met her before," said the Master drawing his hand around her waist and pulling her into the room, closer to the three persons.

Cringing away, she stared at her new teachers, wondering most about Professor Higgins. Slightly, her dress tightened again and part of the "Considerations" rules entered her mind. "It would be suitable if you gave in to any romantic attempts I make." First off when she stepped away in the room, the dress had tightened. When she evaded him here, the dress, she saw looking down, now fit a thread too tightly for her liking._ It makes my large stomach look even larger_," she thought. Looking at the Master, she saw him smirk and offer her his hand. _What happens when I 'encourage' his advancements? Let's see..._Hesitatingly, she slid her hand in his and felt the dress slacken.

So that was the Master's game. Reward her when she obeyed, punished her when she did as she pleased. How loose would the dress get? How tight would it constrict? He was going to make her choose to submit to him. "We'll see how much the dress changes me," she in a voice low enough so only the Master heard. He merely chuckled and held her hand tighter. An odd sensation crept through her body, starting from there. Instinctively, Silwen pulled her hand away and examined it, hardly noticing the dress' fabric show more of her curves. This had been the hand that had recieved the Master's mark. Now, that mark was gone. Gone.

"Oh yes, darling. For now, you are...free. For now," he whispered in her ear, his heated breath tickling her skin. She held perfectly still, digesting the news. It wasn't quite freedom. She still had only the dress. But perhaps the dress could be...remodeled with the use of her wand. Abruptly, one of the men began to speak, jolting her out of her thoughts.

"I say, Mr. Master, are you going to finish the introductions? Or shall we take over and present ourselves? But before that, I'd like to hear the girl speak. Have her introduce herself, Master, and then we shall begin!" said the professor, smiling pleasantly.

"Don't try my patience, Professor Higgins. However, perhaps you are right." replied the Master, gloating over the extremely apparent confusion written all over her face as she traced her palm while staring at the the King, professor, and vampire. "Silwen, introduce yourself to your new tutors."

She looked up. "Silwen Snape. I own a potion shop in Diagon Alley and concoct my own potions, often inventing my own. I have one child who is a first year at Hogwarts. ..." she trailed off, uncomfortable under the gazes from everyone.

"Grew up in Weston-Super-Mare and Scotland, uncle also from Weston-Super-Mare I see. Not too bad, Master. She'll be speaking beautifully in a month!" said Professor Higgins, stepping forward and shaking Silwen's hand cheerfully. "I am going to be your speaking teacher, Silwen. We start tomorrow at precicely nine o'clock. I bid you good day." Stepping away, Henry Higgins left the parlor, loudly going outside to the garden.

"I am your dancing teacher, Miss Snape," said Jareth in a lilting sing-song voice, his lips curling back into a smirk and bowing. He was dressed in grey tights, and a silver cape and shirt. Very...fantastical to say the least-especially with the make-up on his cruelly beautiful face. "We shall start later this afternoon, precious." Again, he brought her fingers to his lips and with a flourish of his cape, strode out of the room, chuckling at Silwen's stony expression.

"Little bird knows who I am," giggled Drusilla approaching. "But little bird can't sing. I get to teach you, dovey," said Drusilla smiling, licking her lips.

"Miss Drusilla, we have blood in the cellar for you. Drink that if you are hungry," snapped the Master, pulling Silwen away from her.

The vampire only smirked more and waved dreamily at Silwen as she left the room, singing, "In two days, you will sing, little dovey. And in two weeks, you will be beautiful, too."

The door shut softly, leaving the Master and Silwen alone.

"So Silly, how do you like your tutors? ... It is time for tea. Please, sit and we shall have some. We have a few things we need to discuss, don't we, _darling_?"


	6. On the Other Side of the Universe

Up and down his study, his feet paced, agitated. It had been one week. One week of two letters and nothing else. Walking up to his desk, he held the letters in his hands, fingers tracing over the now faded ink. Angrily, he slammed his palms down on the wood, making the a small ink well tip over, splattering the all over the surface. He whipped out his wand, spat out a cleaning spell and returned to the chair. Several letters from Scorpius lay opened on the desk, unresponded. Reaching for them, a blank piece of parchment and a wet quill, Draco answered his son with short, vague, comforting answers.

'I'm fine, your mother is in Romania now, gathering wolfs-bane in the Fagaras Mountains. Don't worry, Scorpius, everything's all right! If you want, I can come up next weekend and have lunch. Love, Dad." Or, "Scorpius, you're writing every day! Is school so awful? Your mother wanted me to put that in. Keep ahead in your studies, and be sure to beat Rose Weasley. Your mother also wants me to remind you to be her friend first. She sends her love, Dad."

He breathed out once the letters were off, watching Hermes fly away. Absently, he looked at his watch. 10:00! He had a meeting in five minutes! Quickly, he jerked on his stately dark grey ministry robes and Apparated into his office, grabbing a file or two and dashing off to the Consultation Room.

Percy Weasley nodded in his direction, Draco returned the nod, shook hands very briefly with Potter, Weasley, and Granger, then sat down in his designated seat at the wooden oblong table, sitting beside Marietta Edgecombe head of the Floo Network, and Blaise Zambini, head of something-or-other. The three of them exchanged pleasantries, ("How is your spouse? Children? Congratulations on their houses...), eventually growing silent when everyone filled the empty chairs. The Minister rose to his feet and spoke.

"Good morning everyone. Thank you for coming to represent your department! We are here today to discuss the issue of inequality in the treatment of non-human employees brought up by Hermione Granger. Let us start with the goblins we have working in the Department of Mysteries..." Percy's voice droned on, occasionally interrupted by Hermione or another head, usually objecting to whatever Granger had to say. Silwen often agreed with her; she paid their elves two galleons a month, and forbade them to punish themselves, even granting them the freedom to criticize her, Draco, and Scorpius. He smiled, remembering the weeks Sil had taken in order to persuade him to agree to getting an elf under those terms. But she had done it.

"Mr. Malfoy? What about the Board of School Governors?" asked the Minister, frowining at Draco's smirk.

Draco pulled a pleasant smile over his face and began to brief over the school board's improvements. "We have recently hired Rubeus Hagrid to be on the board. He has made sure the board and school treat non-human folk quite equally," he said and sat down again, letting the rest of the meeting pass as he subconsciously took notes for later reference.

The meeting drew to a close, everyone satisfied, ready to make improvements in their proper areas. Thankfully, no one stopped Draco as he left quickly to his office; he didn't want to make conversation. Not right now. It had been one week. And tomorrow, he was going to-going to see Silwen. Hug her. Lie and say it would be all right. He Apparated inside his office and, as he was expecting, an unnamed, unaddressed letter was on his desk.

His hands delicately tore through the envelope, snatching the letter in his hands. "Draco. Ex-husband of Silwen Snape. Report to Spinner's End at precisely 8:00 a.m. tomorrow morning. ~Tick Tock"

Knees collapsing in his chair, Draco's fingers let the letter slide through his fingers to the ground, and under the desk. Spinner's End. Tomorrow. Eight. He'd be there. Perhaps even with Scorpius if he could manage it. Perhaps he should tell his son first. Decisively, he wrote a letter to Scorpius, telling Scorpius what really happened, his hand trembling when the Master told Draco to leave.

Tomorrow. If he could get through today.


	7. (Author's Note)

This story is on hiatus. I am so sorry!


End file.
